He took a deep breath.
“He is now an angel to watch over us,” he said, a lump in his throat. “He did not survive the fall. He was born sleeping, but I held him so he would not be alone. I have been holding him ever since. I only just put him down when you began to stir.”
Ophelia’s face crumpled and more tears came. “My God,” she sobbed. “My babe is dead?”
Tears came to Creston’s eyes, too. He was trying so hard to be brave for her, but the grief was too much. “He is,” he murmured soothingly, putting his arms around her as best he could without hurting her. “I know, my love. I know it hurts.”
Ophelia cried openly, feeling a pain that a mother hoped she would never feel. “I killed him,” she wept. “When I fell, I killed him!”
“Nay, sweetheart, you did not,” Creston insisted. “It was an accident. You could not help your fall. It was simply an accident. But he suffered no pain, I promise. And he has only known love since his birth. Even if his spirit is gone, his body has only known comfort. I made sure of it.”
Ophelia had her hand over her face, weeping painfully for her dead child. “It was a boy?”
“It was.”
“Did you name him?”
Creston blinked and tears streamed down his cheeks. “Not without consulting you,” he said. “I did not wish to name him something if you already had a name in mind.”
Ophelia’s hand came away from her face and she gazed up at him, her eyes overflowing. “Please,” she begged. “Let me hold him, please. I want to see him.”
Creston had known she was going to ask that at some point. Truthfully, he and Ming Tang and the physic had inspected the child after it was born, and it was obvious from the start what had killed the child. Somehow, when Ophelia fell, she musthave fallen directly on her belly, because the infant’s head was crushed. The bones of the skull were very soft for infants at birth, in any case, and the child’s head simply couldn’t withstand the pressure of a falling body.
Death had been instantaneous.
Ming Tang had tightly bound the infant’s skull and then swaddled him so that when Ophelia looked at her son, she would not be distressed by his injuries. It had been such a kind thing to do. With a sigh, Creston stood up and went over to a nearby table where the infant was lying in a basket. Gently, he scooped up the baby and brought him over to meet his mother. Very carefully, he helped Ophelia sit up a little so she could take the baby from him. Settled into his mother’s arms, the child looked as if he were simply sleeping.
“Oh… Creston,” she murmured, looking at that little face. “He is perfect. So perfect.”
Creston never knew he could feel such sorrow as he did when he watched Ophelia view their son for the first time. “He is,” he said. “He is quite beautiful, like his mother.”
Somehow, Ophelia had forgotten her tears as she inspected the pale little face. He looked so peaceful, so it was both easier and more painful to accept the death. Creston had already had time to come to terms with it, but Ophelia hadn’t. She touched the little face, tracing her finger over the eyebrows, lovingly touching his lashes, and Creston lost his poise. He had his arms around her, but he had to turn his head away so she wouldn’t see the tears that were streaming down his face. Ophelia was so caught up in the vision of her son that she didn’t even notice.
All she could see before her was that life that had grown inside of her.
“How long ago was he born?” she asked.
Creston took a deep breath, composing himself. “About six hours ago.”
“I did not even feel a thing.”
“You were unconscious,” he said. “But your body knew what to do.”
She fell silent, but just for a moment. “I wish I remembered,” she said. “Even if he did not draw breath when he was born, I would have liked to have seen his birth. We’ve spent every day for the past eight months together, he and I. Mayhap if I had been awake, his spirit would still be lingering and I could tell him how much I loved him. From the moment I knew he was growing in my belly, I loved him. I never felt any differently.”
Creston kissed her shoulder, getting his tears on the garment she was wearing. “He knew,” he said softly. “You are his mother. He knew he was loved. Would you like to bring him back to Blackchurch for burial? We can bury him at the church where we were married.”
Ophelia looked at him then. “You are the Earl of Sidbury now,” she said. “Would you not like to bury him here, at Axen? It is your property now that my grandfather is gone.”
That fact hadn’t occurred to Creston until that very moment. To hear it at this tender moment felt rather jarring. He realized that he didn’t want to think about it, or talk about it. There were too many other important things to deal with, not an earldom he felt no connection to.
He was only concerned with his wife and child at the moment.
“We can discuss that later,” he said. “It is not relevant to our situation at the moment. Since we do not intend to live here, at least not at the moment, mayhap you would consider burying the baby where we were married. We can visit him often there.”
Ophelia nodded, gazing down at the child’s face once more. “I would like that,” she said. “He needs to have his parents close by.”
“I agree.”
